


g = GM/r^2

by sadwyvern



Series: Gravity [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Earthborn (Mass Effect), M/M, Paragon Commander Shepard, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect), Trans Male Character, Vanguard (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9490481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadwyvern/pseuds/sadwyvern
Summary: "Scott? He's smart as a whip. Never could take care of himself, though."





	

            Commander Scott Allen Shepard was a realist. He knew that sometimes there were casualties (he hated himself for calling them casualties, they weren’t statistics, they were his _friends_ ), or that missions went wrong (he didn’t cry like he thought he would as he kneeled over Garrus, drowning in his own blood, but he’s pretty sure Zaeed and Mordin saw the tears in his eyes). He knew that there was an entire galaxy of people willing to kill him (he still woke up hyperventilating, with the blinding flashes of an exploding ship behind his eyelids).

            He knew these things, had come to terms with them at ungodly hours of the morning, staring into his coffee cup and debating how his crew would react if he overdosed on his medication, if the week's worth of whispers and suicide watch would be worth the possible reprieve from a galaxy full of responsibilities that bore too heavily on his shoulders. He knew, though, that if he crumbled, the galaxy would soon follow.

            There were things he didn’t know, however. Like why his body, thin and frail and driven by the sheer force of his will alone, seemed to come to life again when he heard Kaidan’s raspy voice, or why he couldn’t help but let a real, genuine smile cross his features when the older biotic laughed. He found himself wanting to smooth away the worry lines in the man’s brow, run his hands through that salt and pepper hair, trace the line of his jaw with his lips.

            Scott Shepard didn’t do relationships. They were messy and emotional and fickle, and he’d always been independent, with an annoying penchant for self-destruction. He shut people out, buried his feelings under a false persona of boundless optimism because that was what people needed. A tireless leader willing and able to pull the galaxy back from the brink. There was something about Kaidan, however, that wanted him to throw caution to the wind, wanted to see what the man looked like spread out on his bed or in his arms.

            “Commander.” Joker’s voice filtered through the ship’s intercom. “We’re here.”

            Scott stood without a word, gloved hands snagging his helmet from his desk and locking it into place with a familiar, practiced movement. Stopping before his door, he took a deep breath, and headed for the cargo bay.

            He was Commander Shepard, and the mission always came first.


End file.
